


The Last Days of Kira and L

by Devilinthebox (princegrisejoie)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, us against the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4376186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrisejoie/pseuds/Devilinthebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a universe where superheroes are needed, people resort to Kira and the Detective. Inevitably, the abundant praise and their respective fans beggar their morality. It comes to an end the day they are revealed to be selfish, terrible human beings staging a feud for show. [PROMPT FILL]</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Days of Kira and L

**Author's Note:**

> For dnprompts first event! Here is the original prompt: L and Light are normal college roommates by day. Secretly, they are each other’s superhero/supervillain archenemies by night. Lots of awkward excuses and unravelling of secret identities ensure. Both of them start to catch on to what’s happening, but they don’t want to do anything about it because they actually enjoy each other’s company as roommates. Soon a bigger villain starts to terrorise the city, and they must team up. Costumes/powers/etc all up in the air. (maybe L can read minds??).  
> I adjusted it a bit, but it's mostly respected. I hope you enjoy it!

_**The Heroes Network**  @heroesnw  
Kira, a misunderstood hero, a paper by K. Takada_

**

L answered the phone on the third ring. In a sigh, he told Mihael he still needed at least 3 hours of sleep per night to be fully effective.

“You need to stop talking about yourself as if you were some kind of weapon,” Mihael said.

Perhaps if Mihael had experienced mind control, he wouldn’t be so quick to label L a human being. He had not, and believed in the Great Detective’s humanity. Thank God for that. L was one of these opportunistic believers. It had everything to do with his supernatural abilities. He read about all kinds of godlike entities, in hope one of them would one day plead guilty for inflicting its wicked idea of a gift upon him. He was a mind reader, fated to be lonely. Minds were to L palaces he possessed, could explore at will, and though he despised himself for that, he would never give away the keys.

As evidence of his monstrosity, he had to re-arrange the memories of his last two roommates. They were other people now.

“I am a monster of sorts, but that’s not the issue. I’m not the only monster out there, that’s what you should be focusing on Mihael. Isn’t it your job? I learnt Kira’s existence on damned twitter. And now, he’s hanging petty delinquents from the University rooftop. Alive. He keeps them alive, just so they will talk to me. They all say he has a soft voice. That he is all the same furious. That he will come after me.”

“Is that fear in your voice? L…no, you can’t back down because of some crazy –“

L resumed his pacing and glanced at the door behind him. “I’m not afraid of him. I’m afraid to be trapped.”

“No one can stop you. You will catch him soon, alright?”

“I can’t catch Kira. I will never be so selfless as to catch him…” A confession in an undertone. It had the sinister ring of defeat, and seemed so surreal, it silenced even Mihael. Then, breaking the strained silence: “ _I live with him_.”

******

**The Great Detective Society**  @greatestdetective  
SHOWDOWN! The Detective tackles the “Kira problem” 

**

It got strange when Lawliet started waiting for Light outside of the Architecture building. They lived together for 3 months, and Lawliet hardly ever had a nice word for his roommate. Waiting for someone is a meaningful gesture. That was a nonsense, to believe Lawliet had time to spare for a man he called a humourless stick-in-the-mud.

The only logical conclusion appeared, clear and cruel in Light’s mind: his true identity had been unraveled. Who was to blame?  _Anyone but me_ , Light reasoned, and cursed Misa. He had been frivolous, to hire her as his designer. 

That Lawliet was the Great Detective, it was obvious. Even his team of devoted followers had guessed it, and their bravery shone brighter than their intellect.  One glance at Lawliet’s demeanor had been enough. There was a peculiar aura about him, and he dressed his words in macabre. His costume couldn’t hide that; especially as it mainly consisted of a carnival mask.

But Light…, Light had always been so careful. He covered the immaculate walls of his room in posters of the Detective, and posed as a fan. Well, he had been a fan once, which injected delightful irony to the lie. Half-truths were Light’s specialty.

Lawliet emerged round the corner, lean, dark and grim. Seeing him reminded Light of his superiority as a figure people can pray to. Heroes are new, exciting gods. L never understood that.

“Don’t scare me like this,” Light intimated. He refused to halt his walking for L’s sake and headed to the courtyard.

“You’re easily scared.” Effortlessly, L caught up with his roommate. He mirrored his pace.

That riled Light, the rhythm they had in common. It reminded him of the nights Kira and L shared, these long nights they devoted to their absurd chase of one another. Justice, of course, was the purpose that moved them.

“Well it doesn’t take much to you to be scary,” Light answered coldly. He had a book in hand, and was tempted to immerse himself in it so as to escape Lawliet’s gaze. His hand clenched the book, but he resisted.

They walked in silence then, both reflecting on their secrets, not as human beings but as veiled identities trapped within flesh and bones.

In the courtyard, a little crowd of students were cackling, spoiling the calmness of a winter afternoon. Light judged them vulgar. They looked like fans of the Detective, but spitted on petty thieves in Kira’s fashion. Lawliet and Light argued on their true allegiance until they reached their dorm.

“They supported  _neither of them_. Let’s just agree on that,” Light said, and slid himself into the hall. He didn’t hold the door for Lawliet, who had shaken his routine and disturbed his mind. Light refused him his usual courtesies. Such was his personal concept of a vengeance.

Lawliet slammed the door open, in all his discretion. Beneath the deadpan expression, hid a terrible temper.

“They wore eye-liner, like the Detective. Sorry to break it to you, but Kira is probably against make-up on some weird moral grounds,” Lawliet retorted. “Though his costume looks pink to me.”

Light bit his bottom lip, judged it careless to speak for Kira, and fell silent. Their steps echoed off the staircase as they made their way to their room. Upon seeing them, most students averted their eyes. Nobody loves geniuses, and geniuses don’t love anybody.

That was their belief, some deranged excuse to alleviate loneliness. In a fairytale, such hypocrisy would be punished. Instead, the humans declared Kira and L superheroes and supervillains in turn, and in both camps their sense of justice was praised.

**

_**The Heroes Network**  @heroesnw_  
_The Successors? A brand new team of Supervillains?_

**

Power protects them – they blink and the world listens quietly in unison. Their power creates harmony. And from that thought comes the arrogance of all godly creatures. An arrogance that is childish, brittle, easily broken.

They understand each other, and fight and talk. It’s a perfect relationship.

Everyone fight, but most people channel their rage onto the outside world, never on their partner. If they do, harmony shatters, the weak one seeks revenge against the powerful one, fails. Equality is possible in harmony only. At least for the humans, for the  _others_. The universe is unbalanced and humans follow the universe’s lead always.

They play a different game. Lawliet pierces Light’s mind defenses in retaliation for an offense they both forgot. But that doesn’t matter. If Lawliet teases his Japanese accent, Light can inflict one of his well-crafted illusions on him the following night.

An article written by devoted Kiyomi Takada affectionately called Kira a  _charmer_. Lovely, but deceptive as there is never any spell involved. Kira is an illusionist, and his favourite ability is self-duplication. This is a trick L never falls for, though. His doppelgängers are empty shells, which makes them vulnerable to a mind reader.

So, Light resort to illusions. Crafting an illusion is like spelling the truth backwards, a strain for anyone that isn’t willing to sacrifice reality to lose and lacerate an enemy.

Wicked as they are, both Lawliet and Light see something beautiful in those days spent together, in the long nights they wake up from covered in bruises. That revives their flawed sense of justice, like flames reflecting the same exact colours.

**

To: rigorousjustice@gmail.com  
From: eXeq77YUjdkB@stealthmail.com  
Subject: important

Teru,

I trust you listened to my instructions on how to secure your e-mail address. Tell Misa I need a better costume, that one is cheap. Why did she think  _pink_  was a good idea? I don’t care if it’s a shade of magenta. It looks  **pink**. It’s not serious.

I need to change everyone’s perspective on me. Have her think of something that doesn’t scream Sissy Gay Villain, please and thank you.

Since I can’t seem to trust any of you, you’ll find attached some ideas I adamantly encourage you to use.

You and Kiyomi need to focus. I lost hope in Misa, but you’ve both hinted that you had brains before. Do it for justice, if not for me.

P.S: what about this Successor rumour? Who are they? Find out.

I’m the only one who can do this. Remember that.

_[No response.]_

**

Light sheltered his thoughts, though the walls around his mind were built on hallowed ground. Cracks like scars, fissures, doubts. He was hiding something, Lawliet deduced. He prowled over to the window ledge where Light was sat.

“I thought you feared death,” Lawliet whispered, and leant his back against the wall nearby. They were not looking at each other.

Light’s eyes fell on the emptiness beneath him. It was the highest floor of a residence that resembled a tower. “I’m not looking forward to it would be more accurate.”

They appreciated their silence for a while. The evening wind swept over them, a swift swoosh, and briskly as a surge of sorrow. Lawliet noticed the newspaper creased at his feet.

“The Successors, set to replace the old heroes,” he read, understood. At once, Mihael’s silence and Light’s melancholy made sense.

“It’s a team. They mean to replace Kira and L. Both of them,” Light finally said, with something of a desperate laugh. “I wasn’t a supporter of Kira…and L failed sometimes, to live up to my expectations but –“ He ran a trembling hand through his hair. “This is unfair. How dare they…?”

“Did that team proclaimed its intentions? They could be on either L or Kira’s side.” L recalled all the calls he rejected, and his overall contempt for Nate’s advice.

“I don’t care about their intentions. People want them to overthrow the monsters, put an end to their unethical reign, that’s what you’ll read everywhere.” His voice died after the word monster, it turned mournful.

L stepped closer to him. Kira and L deserved this, which made it a priority to set things right, quickly. Mutinies are avoided, most of the time, they’re details in the grand scheme, slights easily forgotten.

“They should fight back,” L said. Desperation sharpened his words. “Kira and L. They won’t allow this. They’re predators. They attack.”

Light’s eyes skimmed over L until their gazes met. “Only they can do this.”

His tone protected him, and beneath it in a flash L read… _Afraid, I’m so afraid to be casted away._

 

**

To: Mihael [01:14]  
Talk to me.

From: Mihael [01:20]  
I’m not fighting you. This is about justice. You forgot that. I hope Kira’s ok.

To: Mihael [01:22]  
I won’t forgive that.

_[No response.]_

* * *

 

 **Kira’s Kingdom**  @ohmykira  
Kira on the Successors: “Infidels and Imbeciles!” 

 

The chosen place was a rooftop, high enough to scorn the earth. L kept that sense of superiority, in defiance of the terrible circumstances. His team had turned his back on him, and he had been pushed aside for betraying his own ideals, the rules he had set and imposed. A humiliation, Kira called it. L insisted it was but a challenge. A test sent to him by a higher force. He had it in him, the will to defy monsters and deities, and a taste for twisting stories.

After all, L practically devised the concept of anti-hero so it would suit him. To Kira’s profound dismay, candid little children depicted the Detective as a hero. L himself cringed each time. He had loved that idea, once, a long time ago. _A hero_. A dream once betrayed that stung his tongue. To worn-out, bland heroism, L favoured complexity, mystery, intensity. All he needed to embody all three was himself. No role to play here. That made him, to Mihael and the rest of L’s supporters, all the more attractive. There is nothing quite as charismatic as an anti-hero with a code.

Kira’s Kingdom – the most popular fansite devoted to the godlike vigilante’s feats, deemed L a vampire in a Robin Hood costume.

Ironically, the phrase became a private joke to Light and Lawliet, the human beings. With the mockery of their masked alter-egos came a strange feeling of relief. They dismissed it. It was too dangerous to think about, too close to the fateful question – “what if we lost the masks?” A mere possibility, razor-sharp like a threat.

Break Kira and L, and see what is left. Nothing? No, never. Lonely souls condemned to the ordinary, yes.

That night was special, however. They relished the thrill of it. As foes, as beasts chased by the same self-righteous predators, L and Kira shared a weapon. Deep in their hearts, the conviction their enemies could never resist them. That was all they needed to win.

“I knew you would come, Kira,” said L, unafraid of ridicule. Another man would have mocked his solemn tone, but Light loved the illusion of being a character in a comic book. He greeted the Detective with a bow and teased him with a smirk.

“Long time no see.” He glanced up at the sky, then. _The night has ceased to exist_ , he mused, _because of all the artificial lights_. In a way, heroes lit up the sky with their promises and crazy pirouettes. Light hadn’t been gifted with flight. He could invent as many versions of himself as needed to fool his adversaries, but none of them ever grew wings. He grimaced. “Are you certain no one is there, spying on us?”

L stepped closer. Unfazed, Light observed him. Their eyes locked at last, and here it was, a surge of familiar aches they knew and respected. They had yearned to kill the other for so long, and never quenched that thirst. That was a choice, a very rational choice. They could not live without it now - these longings, and the ecstasy, and the terror you feel in your guts. It’s a duel to death, or a game of chess, it’s an ill-stared tale that’s just for them.

Under the sharp lights, they looked as powerful as ever, just like they did in those days where everybody wanted to be like them.

“Do you feel that new genesis, Kira? It’s close, and it’s going to submerge you. I suppose that wasn’t part of any great plan of yours.”

Beneath the mask, Light bristled. “You haven’t seen this coming either, and you were so adamant the Great Detective valued teamwork above personal glory... What happened to Mihael? And that little sheep boy? And Misora? Did they finally grow afraid of you, Detective?”

“Shall we talk about your flock, Kira?”

Kira fancied himself a replacement to the disappointing gods, and would rather imitate than defy their powers – his team was composed of believers. Their faith soothed his fright.

A minute passed in a hypnotic silence; it was well-spent for both men. Light exhaled and inhaled and forged some fake confidence for himself.  

“Will you show me your face?” L said, and stared, stared intensely – a wile destined to keep the slight tension from his voice. His eyes mimicked determination. They never loved looking straight at people, these dark eyes, but L always forced them.

“Perhaps. If it has to come to it, I will tell you what you already know,” said Light beneath his mask. He wished he could stand still and proud. Their enemies could hide, their enemies had been trained by them. Light kept on scanning their surroundings, sent swift, nervous glances in every direction.

“This is nothing in the grand scheme. You know we will turn it to our advantage. We always do.” In the way it’s moving toward Light, L’s body seems tethered to him.

The hero who fancies himself a monster, the killer washing his hands in praises and promises of heroism…Are they human in their short-lived fragility?

Dreams haven’t found Light when Lawliet pushes the door of their flat that night. They’re organised, as usual. They have a map of the other’s moves in mind, and never meet each other on the way back to ordinary life.

Their play, their shared dream, is perfectly orchestrated. _They all mean to destroy it. That’s unfair, who are they to punish us like that?_ Light sees the sun rise on a world he still controls, foolishly hoping it will last a thousand years. A hero’s crown is praise, as long as they still have this…

Nothing can reach them.

**

 

 

From: Mihael [10:47]  
I’m sorry. This needed to be done. You know it. I know you can understand.

To: Mihael [11:11]:  
It’s time to make a wish, Mihael. What is it you want?

From: Mihael [11:15]  
Justice. That’s all I ever cared for.  
  
To: Mihael [11:20]:  
You never wanted anything else? Not even me?  
  
From: Mihael [11:22]  
This is not about you. You told me once, that I should take over if you strayed. Well…I’m following your orders. I always did.

[No response.]

 

 

**

 

With each glance about Takada’s apartment, Mihael’s certitudes on her hypocrisy grew. On her shelves, trophies and awards caught the light and seemed to reflect it brighter and better than any other object. Mihael had long been inclined to think Takada was devoted to Kira at least partly for her own fame and glory. That was reasonable, in a sense. Amane and Mikami looked desperate, and the ring of their words was dull, like empty shells they didn’t know how to fill. If she was shaken, Takada hid it well beneath her intimidating pride.

She took a sip of her bitter Sencha tea, and then, with her infuriatingly calm voice: “How did you get that idea? Why would you betray a man you respect?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t it obvious…?”

“Not really,” she said. “L claimed he was Justice. Didn’t you trust him?"

Mihael could have returned the slap – she had written formidable praise about Kira, and never once questioned her loyalty to him before.

He could only give a feeble shrug and an answer that wasn’t much stronger. “I once did. And realised it was all about him, though he meant well. Kira said the exact same thing.” For L’s defense, he never posed as a deity, and was adamant to correct those who painted him as a hero. A year ago, he even returned the trophy of the Hero of Heroes. Kira had commented on that, rather bitterly. “Why did you leave him… _Kira_?”

“I honestly would not have taken the initiative,” Tadaka replied with care. “We were… touched by your arguments, actually.” She glanced at the couch where Amane and Mikada had slumped. “Your rationale made sense. It took time, but Li…- _Kira_ stopped believing and we couldn’t follow him on that path, could we?”

“If he did ever believe in anything.” The words escaped Mihael, but he didn’t regret that.

The remark vexed Takada. “You’re harsh,” she said coldly. “He did believe. He did in the beginning.”

Mihael went silent, impressed by her loyalty. He hadn’t see this coming. “Look. We will never agree with the methods, okay? I haven’t recruited you for that,” he said in a voice he hoped didn’t quaver.

After an instant of hesitation, Takada centered herself as well. “What can we do? We can’t kill them. I suppose not.”

“No! It’s not the right thing to do. I guess.”

“But they are prideful, childish geniuses. They won’t go down without a fight. We don’t stand a chance. I hate to say this, but we really don’t.” Takada swallowed against her throat. “What can we do?”

Still in a daze, Misa lifted her head from the cushion it was nuzzled into. “Mihael can breathe fire. We do stand a chance -”

“And Kira is a power-thief,” Takada countered. “He can steal any power aimed at him, remember? Do you really want Kira to breathe fire as well?”

“Not to mention L’s talents. He is excellent at messing with people’s minds.” Mihael said. The recollection tenses his features.

Takada shot him a sharp look. “What is the point of this revolution if we can’t even reach them, then? Care to explain, Mr Keehl? I thought you had a plan.”

The word revolution extracted a sly smile from Mihael. “The point is…we don’t have to reach them at all. We just have to reach the world.”

As inviting the universe to the fall of Kira and L was plainly impossible and perhaps too cruel, the Successors settled for the population of Ivy University. A crowd of familiar faces - that would be enough to entice them.

 

*

To: studentunion@ivyuniversity.com  
From: fXSxioJjkhyi@stealthmail.com  
Subject: announcement

_Students of Ivy Uni,_

_You will be part of history someday. It’s an inevitability. We are all part of it. History is a tower, and whether you’re a pebble or a keystone is up to you._

_I’ll tell you this in my own name. I am Mihael Keehl, and you might know me from the Great Detective Network. I did my duty, I served, I learnt. And I woke up. Do you support L, or Kira? I no longer care for your answer, and that’s all you need to know. I no longer care because they’re the same. The only thing they never shared is a body – and you know L is not above possession of mind. They’re not the same person, but that might change someday._

_Two months ago, I discovered Kira and L were roommates. My investigation has been mirrored by that of Kira’s closest followers. Plagued with doubt, they came to me, and we exchanged intelligence on the heroes we looked up to. That’s how we came to the conclusion – we were fools. Kira and L committed crimes and lied their way to the top, that much we knew. That was justified, in the name of Great Justice, the concept we thought was a treasure they cherished._

_There was a simple reality we overlooked, however._

_The game. That’s how they call it._

_L may have saved your life, and Kira surely killed that criminal you lost sleep over. You thanked one of them at least once, perhaps both of them in your short existence. I lived for L, some prayed to Kira. That’s how life works. You gave so much to them._

_Well, they could not care less. You all were…we all were numbers on a chart, evidences of their power, and pieces on a chessboard. We should have known, but we deluded ourselves._

_Everything, the battles and the discourses and the seed of hope they scattered in your hearts…was part of an intricate plan they pretended to ignore. They spied, studied and saw the other. They predicted their every moves and staged a rivalry for show._

_You want my advice? Get rid of vigilantes. We are plenty here with powers that have not yet awaken. Perhaps you can fly and disappear at will. Chances are you know someone like this. Find your power in the ordinary. Theatre kids have that verve, the imagination of an artist and the logic of a lawyer can get you out of anything. Find something you can do well and polish it, work it to perfection._

_In the meantime, we want you to witness the fall of the last vigilantes. No blood will be shed. That is my only demand to you._

_Remember: we fed Kira and we made L that way. It wasn’t always a game. We are responsible. And we need to see the fall of our idols. That’s a fitting punishment for us._

*

 

“So it has come to this,” says Light in a tone he hopes isn’t too dramatic. Apparently, it is. Lawliet shots him a sharp, silencing look. An offense and a jape, to Light – as if Lawliet never indulged in drama for the sake of it.

It was a simple message Lawliet received and shared with his roommate. _It all ends today. Ivy University Main Hall. Be there and ready to prove yourselves._ They had thought of a duel. They had thought of a battle. They had thought of an outcome that favoured them.

There is glory in a battle, and the Successors deprived them of that. In their cruelty, it’s the public they elected as their weapon. The eyes of strangers lacerate their backs, confronts their masks. It’s a trap, and they’re standing in the middle of it.

They’re the powerful preys of judgement. Students, skeptics and believers alike, are encircling them whilst Kira and L’s once loyal followers act as the judges. Will they prevent a bloodshed? Light doubts it. It’s undeniable, though: the traitors, Mikami and Takada and the others designed the confrontation to be a fair trial of sorts.

There is no true cruelty in their plan, but Light doesn’t find it in himself to grant them that. Accusations of selfishness wedge themselves into his side, the only well-aimed arrows of an overly emotional crowd. A voice calls them a nasty cold word. _Monsters_. L stiffens beside him, and glares with the ever piercing eyes of Lawliet. It occurs to Light that they are still wearing their masks.

He turns to his foe at last and reaches for him. Silent seconds pass, flow above them along with the accusations they can’t comprehend. Light touches Lawliet’s bony cheekbone, traces the borders of his mask…He curses the tears filling his eyes. They’re clouding his vision, and prevent him from looking straight at Lawliet’s now unmasked face.

This mockery of a trial lasts for some time. None of them indulges the crowd. They don’t listen. They pretend the dock, a place for criminals and misfortune, is their throne. Let’s say for a moment that Kira and L aren’t the masks. Let’s realise that Light and Lawliet never were that honest.

“Would you accept your fate, renounce your place and become human again?” It’s Mihael’s voice, and it roils Lawliet’s stomach.

“Never.” Both of them answer that. “Never.” Only Light says it twice, and keeps the mask. It’s a beautiful, elegant work of art that evokes the Japanese legends of his childhood. So Light holds on to it.

“What do you have to say for your defense?”

They’re both aching to demonstrate just how ruthless they can be. Were they vulgar creatures of instinct…no one would still be there to accuse them of toying with others. Mind control, Lawliet’s gift, always caused him improbable shame. He loves it too much. As for Light, he would gladly lose them in a dream. They always end up enjoying it, these venomous illusions he weaves so precisely. They’re mirages, made for losing your mind. That’s what Kira’s power is about. It’s a craftsman’s work in the field of destruction.

Light chases these thoughts, and the temptation of wreaking havoc in this sacred place – Ivy University is where both L and Kira were formed. This can’t just be a stage for a massacre of innocents. Even misguided, judgmental innocents.

 “All I did was serve you. I wanted you to feel safe,” Light confesses, and doesn’t know whether it’s sincere or not. All that matters is that it sounds like it. “I swear to you… look at my eyes! I never worked with L. We always were enemies, we will forever be that way,” he tries, with passion in his voice at long last. His argument is swiftly countered by some smirking law student.

Startled, Light stares into space, and lets the words fall from his mouth: “You will never believe me.”

L breaks a vow then, a silent vow they made long ago – to never use their powers as humans. Lawliet wouldn’t possess Light’s mind, and Light wouldn’t lose Lawliet in an illusion. The rule of a game that ceased to exist, does it still bind the players?

Lawliet closes his eyes and feels it, the terror sizzling in Light’s mind. _Think, think, think!_ Light is urging himself. There is confusion and traces of guilt in his head, like ghosts in a house haunted by memories. It’s not a forest you can wander into, not even one with dark cypresses. It’s not a playground, that volatile mind. It’s a cage, it’s a jail.Anguish banishes rational thought, and to Light, all the looks, like trapped walls, are closing in on themselves. _They are here to get me,_ is the first clear thought L detects.

By virtue of his self-control, Light’s voice hardly ever quiver. He means to soothe the fears and ease the swelling wounds left by doubts, L knows. It’s a fragile plan. The Kira he is playing now is a figure cut out of paper, a marionette Light forgot how to maneuver. Yes, that’s true - nobody is believing him.

“Now, Kira is not the sole liar here,” someone says rightfully, “Perhaps the deceit you are guilty of, Detective, is even graver than Kira’s mendacities. You played Robin Hood, but never cared for anyone here. You could have stopped Kira’s crimes, and refrained from doing so. You chose a nemesis over Justice.”

Their mouths accuse the Detective of arrogance and neglect, of colluding with the enemy for a greater, special sort of thrill. Lawliet swallows his pride, and falls silent. There is relief in accepting a just punishment. Standing stiff as a statue in a corner, Mihael meets Lawliet’s gaze. They exchange words. Excuses. They both say they’re sorry for the ending. And finally, Lawliet sees a way out that doesn’t smear Kira and L’s reputation with murder and possession of mind.

He tells Light- rather, plants the idea in Light’s head. There are interferences, as fear buzzes in his mind, an impossibly shrill melody. Still, L manages to reach his enemy.

_Light, all we need is an illusion credible enough so they won’t even think of countering it._

Light nods imperceptibly, and obliges. The humiliation affected his calm demeanor. His trembling hand is clasping his wrist. He has the rueful eyes of someone who has been unfairly accused. Kira is already dead. Parts of Light are agonizing. His punishment is an enigma to him, and he doesn’t try to unravel it. He plays the part of the martyr, so he doesn’t face his crimes, so he stays in the dark, reassured and rightful in his wrath.

The once uplifting crowd is painted as the traitor. It demands punishment for its lies and slander.  

So Kira lives for one second. He punishes it.

They all fall into the illusion, and believe.

To the world, Kira and L made their escape in dignity: they flew away. In truth, crafting that illusion drained Light and L had to carry him on his back. They left in silence, swift as shadows, together as they never were. Nobody saw. Everyone was busy looking for fallen heroes in the sky.

There is a smatter of impressed applause from those who couldn’t quite disavow their heroes. Some recoil in fright. The illusion dithers to an end, and finally vanishes, but nobody senses it. It’s the truth they all believe.

Some say they grew wings. Some say they were never human.

 

*

_KIRA AS A SUPERHERO, AN ARGUMENT ON HIS MOTIVES. By K.Takada._

_Some causes need a champion that isn’t afraid of rumours. A guardian that doesn’t defend, but protects. Rumours…They’re but the toll of glory after all. Justice needs Kira, who remains silent in the face of slender. Justice doesn’t need a Great Detective, addicted to social media and God knows what else. Yes, I suspend my breath at his feats, and will defend his ideals as a sensible, socially apt person (…)_

 

Light’s hand is resting lazily on the old newspaper, it creases the paper and catches the fading afternoon light. He is a criminal now. A criminal with a friend, a criminal all the same. He is lying on the bed, as if he had been flung there.

L calls out for him three times. _Light_. He raises his voice. _Light._ He steps closer, and yells this time. _Light!_

“We need to leave the hotel now. They’ll find us, put us in a cage.”

Light lifts his head, swallows nervously. The fear in his eyes shines like copper, it’s nauseating. L is at a loss for words, and it occurs to him that Light has a mind he will never fully enter. Light's terror is not for Lawliet to understand.

Still, he felt like chasing it away.

“We are not fit to be heroes, Light. We can be something else, we can be better. It was limiting us. There are many possibilities for us.” Discourses are Light’s favourite niche, and Lawliet feels as though he’s imitating him. It’s surprisingly easy. “I know you can see it. Kira was a start. Your powers have so much more potential.”

In the shy way Light is shifting position over the bed, Lawliet still detects traces of fear, of shame. He is sitting now, pale and damaged.

 _Will you believe him now?_ It’s the voice of Lawliet’s instinct. Reason has nothing against Light. Kira was an enemy on their own terms, there was only staged resentment and rehearsed battles. If anything, he should trust Light to be as heinous as him…

“You abandon, then. The idea of heroism terrifies you,” Light lets out at last. His voice is cold now.

The story always plays like this – the architect of chaos pretends to be bothered by the fall he designed. Light wanted this to happen. He wanted to be destroyed, then made again, reimagined. “Heroism is not for you. It demands a code you could never follow.”

The remark stings Lawliet. “I could follow it. Do you want the truth? I didn’t want to. I have a clear vision of justice as I imagine it. Rules set by others slow me down.”

“What were you searching for then?” Light slides himself across the bed to his feet. “I don’t think you are some kind of Robin Hood. I think you are just.” He has the eyes of someone who says a heartfelt compliment. “I think you see Justice. You find it beautiful. But you wouldn’t sacrifice yourself for it.”

Before the truth, Lawliet remains silent and still. He listens to Light Yagami, and sees neither Kira nor his roommate in his traits. Light is the portrait of all forsaken deities. There is refinement in his words, and a rapacious, godlike wrath weighting his tone. If you want to impress, reconcile fragility and power. A flawless song is bland.

“I want you to stay with me,” Lawliet says after some time, in the midst of their discussion. They talked of gods and humans, and wondered where their powers came from.

“All I want is for our existence to be fruitful. Can we do that?” he insists upon sensing Light’s hesitation. “I don’t blame them for rejecting us. But I won’t let them win either.”

“Didn’t they win already? They will replace us.”

Placing his hands at either sides of Light’s face, Lawliet managed a miracle – he managed a hopeful smile. “And we will replace them. What we have you and I, it’s a tale. Two enemies battling for Justice. It’s exciting, it’s so human, and yet completely out of their reach. Don’t you see? We will always have an audience.”

_And in that, we are not monsters. Monsters don’t sell dreams._

Light considers refusing the proposal, feels the inevitable end - the perspective of boredom, a death shared by many, the most common decay imaginable.

And he sees praise, he sees success and his merits told a thousand times by those he saved. He sees the promise of an eternal bond.

 

He says yes.


End file.
